


Unicorns like Us

by silailo



Category: Sabata (1969)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silailo/pseuds/silailo
Summary: It took a little effort to meet his gaze. “You don’t remember me, do you?”Sabata stopped with the cigar at his lips. “Should I?”





	Unicorns like Us

**Author's Note:**

> Sabata is licensed and owned by MGM. This is just fanfiction and I do not profit from any of it.
> 
> Comments and critique welcome!

She saw him at a table in the far corner of the saloon, glowering down at the drink in his hand. The dim electric bulbs in the run down saloon had left the back wall dark where the stranger sat. She’d almost missed him.

After some hesitation, her boots thumped across the warped floorboards. She nodded at the bartender, a skeletal man with one white wisp of hair on the crown of his head. A mass of wrinkles rearranged themselves over his ancient face as he watched her.

“Bonny, I ain’t got no ruffians here today,” he said, his voice as thin as what was left of his hair. He leaned on the bar as she passed. “You don’t need concern yourself. He’s but an old man like myself.”

Bonny’s spurs clinked as she walked toward the table in the back, which got the stranger’s attention.  He looked up from under his wide hat, and narrowed his eyes at her. It amazed her how much he’d changed since she last saw him. Though he hadn’t aged well—his cheeks were sunken, his face pale, and the frown lines around his mouth deep—he hadn’t lost that famous glint in his eyes. His sharp, angular features could be off-putting to some, since time had shaped them to be more sinister. Bonny guessed he had lost a little to his height over the years, judging by how his black coat hung over his bony frame.

He saw her coming. “There a problem?” he asked. Like his eyes, his voice was sharp and exuded a warning that promised pain.

“He ain’t causing no trouble,” the bartender reiterated.

Bonny stopped at the man’s table. “There isn’t a problem.”

Out of nervous habit, she fingered the bullets lining her belt. Her guns rested in their holsters at her hips. Out of respect for him, she decided to close her duster to hide away the weapons. She wouldn’t need them.

“If there’s no problem, then I’d like to have my drink in peace,” said the old man.

Bonny removed her hat. Her long red hair, tied back in a braid, rested over her shoulder. There were several things she wanted to say, but all of it stopped in her throat like water behind a dam.

The man scowled at her. “What is it you want?” He squinted. “That’s not a star on your jacket, is it?”

“It is.”

“So you’re Bonny Mott?”

“That’s right.”

The corners of the man’s mouth twitched up. His annoyance melted into amusement. “The Lady Sheriff. I’ve heard of you.”

“A lot of people have.”

“Well, I didn’t believe it until just now.”

 “A lot of people don’t.”

His teeth gleamed in the weak lighting, all of them still present. “I don’t blame them. It’s impressive.”

Bonny bristled at the comment but let it go. Why should it be impressive? “No one else wanted to take up the challenge in this town.”

“You did the right thing, then.”

“I think so, too.”

Again he gave her that grin. “You here to arrest me?”

 “No. I was just curious. You _are_ him, though, aren’t you?”

“Who?”

Bonny paused. She took a moment to examine him more closely to make sure she was correct. She pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.

“You’re Sabata,” she said.

He chuckled, glanced at his drink, and shook his head. That trademark grin never left his mustached face.  The hair of his mustache had gone completely white. With his hat it was difficult to tell if he’d also gone bald.

“My reputation precedes me,” he said. “I didn’t think it would chase me into old age.”

“In some places you’ve become a legend,” said Bonny. “There are people who say you never existed.” She smiled. “You’re almost a myth.”

Sabata’s white eyebrows came down over his hooked nose. “That’s laying it on a little thick.”

“But it’s true.”

“You thought I was just a myth?”

“No, I always knew you were real.”

“Well, that’s good. I don’t want be lumped in with unicorns.”

Bonny laughed, which seemed to please him.  He visibly relaxed and sat back in his chair.

“I guess lady sheriffs wouldn’t want to be like unicorns, either,” he added. “I like that you had the guts to take up the job.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I was…inspired.”

“That so?” Sabata reached into his coat for a cigar, followed by a small box of matches. He lit the cigar and took a drag. The smoke drifted up to the hot electric light above the table. “What inspired you?”

At this Bonny fell silent. Her heart began to race. She hadn’t wanted to make a big deal about it, but she had dreamed this day would come. As a little girl she had been determined to make it happen.

She wiped her hands on her trousers. It took a little effort to meet his gaze. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Sabata stopped with the cigar at his lips. “Should I?”

No, she didn’t think he would remember. It was too long ago, but she remembered _him_. Though vastly changed from his glory days, she still recognized him in this musty saloon whose walls with its peeling wallpaper and stained ceilings echoed of an earlier time of sin and violence.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “You’ll have to pardon this old geezer and his poor memory.” He cracked another grin. “So, where have we met?”

Bonny swallowed. She had taken up the mantle of law-woman and had faced off with a number of difficult characters, but when she sat down to have a pleasant conversation with a renowned gunfighter and conman, she almost balked.

“We met about twenty years ago,” she said once she found her tongue. “I was just a little girl back then.”

Sabata grunted softly. He brought up his cigar and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “It’s hard for me to remember details that far back. In those days, I was busy doing what I do best. I don’t remember any kids.”

“You came to my town following a medicine peddler. The town was called Orange Creek. There were a few hundred people living there. We just thought the medicine peddler was a swindler looking for some easy cash. We didn’t know his wagon was loaded with gold.”

The wizened gunfighter said nothing. He tapped the ashes of his cigar onto the table.

“I was a pretty sneaky kid,” said Bonny. “I got curious because his wagon was always locked up and I couldn’t see inside, so one night I followed him to watch him open it. He caught me. He trapped me in his wagon and demanded a ransom from my father, who owned a store. But the amount he asked for was more than what my family could afford.”

Sabata nodded. “The peddler’s name was Maurice. He stole that gold with a gang and then stabbed ‘em in the backs by making off with the loot.”

“That’s right. I don’t know how long I was locked up in that wagon. We went on some wild ride where I thought the wagon was going to tip over and I was going to die. When it stopped, and the doors finally opened…you were there.”

The old man rubbed his chin as he recalled. “I made a good haul that day.”

“You were after the gold, not me. You had no idea I was in the wagon.”

“I suppose I didn’t.”

“You put me on your horse and we went back to town. I guess you killed the peddler because I never saw him or the wagon again.” Bonny leaned forward on the table and locked her eyes with his. “But you did something I’ll never forget. You gave my family a hundred dollars in gold and note apologizing for a bruise I got on my face from the wagon ride. You gave people back the money they lost to this man Maurice. They talked about you for years. You’re some kind of Robin Hood.”

Sabata barked out a laugh. “Robin Hood!”

“So do you remember now?” Bonny asked.

“You’re saying you became a sheriff because of what happened twenty years ago?”

“It’s not that I aspired to become one. I was inspired to have courage, because I saw it in a man who saved my life. ”

Sabata returned to his cigar to ruminate over her tale.

Bonny’s mouth had gone dry. It hadn’t been the whole story. She left out the part where she had searched for him. She’d kept up with the rumors of his whereabouts and followed every lead, but five years ago she gave up. It had been crazy, really. All she planned to do was thank him. After he had brought her home, he’d left her in front of her house, climbed into the saddle again, and vanished. The money that had been stolen from the people appeared the next day in a large sack.

 “I do remember,” said Sabata. “That little redheaded girl, like an extra prize, only I couldn’t spend it.”

“There are some who say you’re a conman who likes to use blackmail to get what he wants.”

“Can’t blame them.”

“Maybe you are, but then you’ve never hurt a single person who didn’t deserve it.”

“Haven’t I?”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

Sabata started to laugh, but the laugh turned into a nasty cough. Bonny was about to offer him something more to drink, but he recovered. He took the glass of whiskey in front of him and sipped on it, his body jerking as he tried to take control of the spasms.

His voice came out strained. “Doc did tell me to quit smokin’, but this old man would like to keep a few vices in his last days.”

Bonnie’s breath hitched. “You mean…?”

“Well, a man’s got to go sometime, doesn’t he?” He coughed again.

She shrugged. “I suppose.”

Sabata took another sip of his drink as the coughing fit subsided. He gave Bonnie a long look. “Most people wouldn’t speak of me that fondly. I’m glad at least one person will remember me so.”

“How could I not? If someone sees a unicorn, they never forget it.”

Sabata brought up the cigar again. “And they would never forget you, either. No one forgets unicorns like us.”


End file.
